Belgarion's Quest
by braincramp
Summary: After Zandramas is defeated and the Purpose of the universe is restored, Garion believes his adventures are over . . . but the Neccesity is not through with him yet . . .
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: This is my first attempt at fan fiction so please bear with me. I was just wondering what would happen if Garion walked through my front door - so I decided to write about it. Please R&R._

_btw, feel free to flame away- I've got tough skin. Besides, you could be right, but I doubt it. :)_

_braincramp_

* * *

**Prologue**

"Where am I?"

He looked around. Above him the sky was a pale blue. The ground beneath him was cold and hard. "Belar!" he swore, "I should _not_ have had so much ale last night." As he tried to lift his head a searing pain ripped through him as a wave of nausea forced him to roll to his side. Suddenly he stoped in mid heave . . . 'this is _definitely **not**_ grass!' he thought. Ignoring the urge to slip back into unconsciousness he looked closer to inspect the surface on which he laid. It was hard and grey, like granite; yet rough – as if someone had taken pure gravel and melted it into a single, solid slate. His mind reeled at the notion of _anyone_ having that kind of power. 'Only a god, or maybe the Orb, could produce this,' he thought. His eyes followed the grey landscape as it stretched away before him until it rested upon a building of some kind. A large wooden structure rose before him. "Enough power to build this rock, and they don't even have the common sense to use stone," he mumbled, "don't they know that wood burns?! – Tolnedrans!" "Well, I might as well see if anyone's home," he said, biting his lip against the pain and rising to his feet.

As he stood he looked closer at the structure. It appeared to be about 10 yards tall and about 120 yards across. About a quarter of the way in on both sides there was a deep inset with stairs leading up and landings every so feet. 'Odd,' he thought, 'definitely not Tolnedran architecture.' "Where am I?" he said again aloud; well, there's only one way to find out.

He started towards the steps, grabbing the railing as he stumbled towards the nearest door. It was locked. The one behind him was too. He mounted the steps and tried the next floor. No luck again. Third floor . . . first door was locked. Then he tried the one on the right. The knob turned. Preparing himself, he slowly pushed the door in. As he stepped through he noticed a man, about his own age, sitting and reading a small book. The book had on its cover a likeness of an old, bearded man. A man that looked almost identical to his grandfather. And across the top, written in large letters, were the words, "Belgarath the Sorcerer"!

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_sorry so short . . . but it's just a prologue . . ._


	2. Chapter One

* * *

**Chapter One**

Belgarath looked up from reading as Garion entered. "You're up early I see," Garion said.

"Something was bothering me; I couldn't sleep."

"Is that the Darine Codex? I thought it was over. We defeated Zandramas and she turned into the constellation to replace the one that exploded. What else is there?"

Belgerath was silent for a moment as he thought through the events of the last several years. True, they had defeated Zandramas. Erriond had replaced Torak, just as Zandramas had replaced the missing constellations. Yet, something just didn't seem right. Belgarath had always known that this world had been created for the ultimate confrontation between the two Neccesities. Now that it was finished there was a New Purpose and a New Neccesity. How was it then, that that voice Garion had always carried around in his head hadn't cease to exist? The Neccesity which Belgarath had spent seven thousand or more years serving was to see the Original Purpose of the universe restored. Once that was accomplished, those conflicting Neccesities would be either desroyed or fulfilled. Either way, they wouldn't be in existance anymore. Yet, although the voice no longer resided in Garion's head, it still existed; and that was what had him tossing all night long. There was still something left for them to do.

"Belgarion," Belgarath said, "Do you know why you exist?"

"Please don't call me that, Grandfather, I'm Garion," Garion replied, a little mystified by the formal tone his grandfather used.

"No, you're not," His grandfather replied, "You've been Garion long enough. Besides, you didn't answer the question."

"Belgarion, do you know why you exist?"

Somewhat startled, and a little perplexed by his grandfather's behavior, Garion shook his head, "I don't understand, what does this have to do with my name?"

"A name means nothing, unless it means something," Belgarath said crypticaly. "Plain language? You were born 'Garion;' you have become 'Belgarion'. I was born with a name I no longer remember. As a child I was called Garath, 'from the town of Gara', in the language of my parents. When Aldur found me and took me as his disciple, I _became_ Belgarath. Din _became _Beldin. Tira, Kira, Melkor, Sambar, and Zedar _became _Beltira, Belkira, Belmelkor, Belsambar, and Belzedar. It was Who they were.They were still Din, Tira, Kira, Melkor, and Sambar; but they had become more, and they embraced their new name along with who they were. Belzedar, because of his betrayal, willed himself to become again Zedar. This wasn't an act of rebellion to who he was, it was a confession." Belgarath then paused for emphasis, "Garion, you are Belgarion, disciple of Aldur, and instrument of Neccesity. Untill, you have been released from that, or you Choose to deny it, you _are_ Belgarion. It's time you put away childish names and took upon you the purpose you were created for."

"I thought that was over. I mean, was everything we did for nothing? Do you mean that everything's still repeating?"

"No, not this time I don't think. There is a TASK, an EVENT, and a CHOICE out there yet, but I think these are new. What we did was neccesary, and it was final. The Dark Neccesity is no more. We won. But it's not over. Our neccesity still exists. I think it's like our names. Before, the Purpose we serve was to correct the accident - the star that exploded when and where it should not have. Once that was done, I think that the Purpose changed somewhat. Or maybe more precisely, _became_ what it was born to be in the first place. Now the universe is heading towards the Purpose it was on at it's creation. And that is the Purpose we serve now. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, we still have work to do. You can play king and husband and father all you want - and that's good - but when it's time, you must be willing to become the Child of Light again, and be who you are . . . 'Belgarion'."

"Why me?" Garion sighed.

For the first time in his life Garion heard his grandfather become enraged at him. "Belgarion," Belgarath roared, "I don't want you to _ever_ say 'why me?' again. I've spent seven eons waiting, and sacrificing so you could exist. I lost a wife and a daughter so you could do what you were meant to do. I've lived in poverty, hunger, and cold; I've given up everything in this world for you, and I will _not_ have you make it as nothing by your constant whining! Be a _man_ Belgarion, and grow up!

Shocked, Garion prepared to defend himself, then thought the better. Although events were not repeating themselves in the same manner as before, he realized to his chagrin that _this_ particular conversation _had_ happened before. He remembered the time in Nyissa on the ship with his Aunt Pol and _their _conversation. He remembered how greatly he had hurt her. He also realized that he never wanted to make that same mistake again. "I'm sorry, Grandfather, and you're right. It's who I am; That's why me. I've spent so much time trying to fix the purpose of the universe that I've been running from my own purpose. Maybe deep down I had hoped that once this was all over I could just be Garion again. But that's not who I am is it? Maybe I never really was. So I suppose the question I should ask is, 'what do I need to do?' I guess that's why you're reading the Darine; what have you found?"

Belgarath nodded. "It's a step," he said, half to himself. Then louder to Garion he said, "Well, Something I read once in the Mrin said, _'And lo, When the Lights that Were, and Were Not, and Are Again are risen from the Place that Is No More, then shall the Child of Light take up the Stone and come to the Land which Lies Away; and there shall the CHOICE decide the Fate of all that is, was, and is yet to be.' _When I read this before I assumed that the Land which Lies Away was Riva. When Zandramas transformed into the missing stars she became the Lights that Were, and Were Not, and Are Again. I thought it was merely the Prophecy trying to be funny - saying that now our lives have really begun."

"But something made you change your mind?" Garion surmised..

"It's the use of capitals. The scribes who took down the Mrin lunitic's raveings didn't put any capitals in the text when it came to an EVENT. We were the ones who put significance to them. Yet, for some unexplained reason that I never noticed before, this particular passage _does_ use capitals. I ablosutely _hate_ it when he does this."

"Who? does what?" Garion asked.

"Your little friend. He thinks he's clever. He somehow is able to shut down our brains untill it's time to use the information. I can look at a particular passage for centries and never decipher its meaning until _He's_ ready for me to. I _hate_ it when people tamper whith things!"

"Uh, Grandfather, I thought you said that passage was in the Mrin?"

"Yea?"

"So why are you reading the Darine?"

"I think I've explained this before. The Darine isn't as reliable as the Mrin, and usually doesn't have as much detail; but often, if you can find correlating passages, the Darine is extremely usefull in filling in the missing peices. I'm just trying to see if I can find anything that will shed some light on this. I know it's relevant. I just don't have a clue yet as to how," Belgarath said picking up the book again.

"Well, let me know when you find something. It's not often that I get to walk around on my own; but, since Ce'nedra is in Tolnedra visiting her father, and amazingly enough I don't have any state functions or audiences to give until after noon, I think I'm going to take the advantage of a long hot bath. Come and find me if you make any progress."

"You'll be the first to know" his grandfather replied without looking up. "Oh, and Belgarion, don't forget what we talked about."

"I won't," He replied. Garion noticed that his grandfather was probably going to insist on calling him 'Belgarion' from here on out. 'I guess it's time for me to accept it,' He sighed as he headed to his chambers to grab a towel and change. Still, the universe can get rather heavy sometimes; I'm glad I have my grandfather to help me carry it. And with that he headed to the baths to take advantage of this brief respit. He might not get another one for quite some time.


	3. Chapter Two

_Thank you, yumichan808, for your review. I have to apologize. It's typical of me to presume that everyone else is on the same wave length as me. I guess that's why most writers have editors. Oh well. I realize that Poledra never actually died and that Blegarath was reunited with her at the end of _Seeres of Kell, _but for five thousand years he _thought_ that she had died -_and _he always felt that loss, even_ after _they were reunited. I think Belgarath had had enough of Garion's 'Why me,' and decided to put an end to it. Belgarath is always such a dramatist; I think he just went a little overboard in order to get Garion's attention._

_Also, yes, Polgara said ruffly the same thing at the end of _Queen of Sorcery. _I thought I mentioned that._

_Anyway, please keep reading. Things haven't even gotten started yet_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

It came with no warning at all. A sudden renching, tearing sound filled the chamber. The water became instanly icy, and the air became dank and stale. The stones, although already grey, lost vibrancey, as if all its color had been sucked out and only a pale semblance ramained. Garion stuggled quickly to reach the the side of the bath and climb out. As soon as he was free of the pool, the water solidifeid, becomeing a single slab of ice. Quickly, Garion grabbed his cloak and threw it around him as he hurried to find Belgarath. As he turned the corner, he saw a guard heading off in a different direction. Garion started to hail him down to see if he knew whether Belgarath was still holed up in the library or not, but no sound came out when he opened his mouth. Alarmed, Garion decided to check for himself. As he got closer to the guard, Belgarion realized that the guard was frozen in mid stride. 'What's going on here? Why is everyone paralized? Am I the only one still mobile?' he thought, fear creeping over him as he realized that he was defenseless. Even if he were to draw in his will, mute as he was, he couldn't release it. He needed to find Belgarath . . . _now!_

Belgarion raced through empty corridors, heading for the library near the top of the Citadel. He passed several more palace staff on the way, each seemingly frozen in time like the first. As he raced pass the throne room, he noticed several Tolnedran dignitaries waiting in the anteroom for their attendence with him later that afternoon. Like the others he'd passed earlier, they all had a blank look on their faces and were as immoble as carved statues. On a whim, Belgarion doubled back to grab his sword from above the throne. The Orb at least was still awake, but somehow it was strangely subdued. He could sense its presense, yet it seemed to be far away. There would be time later to worry about this. If there was indeed another EVENT to take place, maybe this was a preemptive attack. And, if this was an attack, he needed something to defend himself with. Being unable to speak the Word had put him at a serious disadvantage, and he was going to need all the help he could get.

He climbed up the back of the throne and reached for his sword. Usually it would pop right of with a sort of 'click,' yet this time he had to throw all of his weight into it. The sword finally broke free with dull 'clang' sending Belgarion hurling back to fall in a heap on the floor in front of the Rivan Throne. 'It's a good thing everyone's frozen'' he thought wriley, looking around at the unconscience people who always filled the hall. The thud he made as he hit the floor was cut off suddenly - almost as if it had never happened. Belgarion bent to pick up the Sword of Riva. Usually it was as light as a feather in his hands with the orb attached. This time it was much heavier. Not as heavy as it would have been without the stone on the pomel, yet at least the weight of an average Arendish broadsword. 'I don't even want to think about how much this would weigh right now without the Orb attached,' Belgarion thought to himself as he grabbed the scabbard and threw it across his back.

Belgarion then turned and headed back out of the Hall of the Rivan King. Again, he raced down the long corridoors heading towards the royal library. He passed more and more stunned people on the way. Belgarion dimly wondered why he hadn't been affected like everyone else, yet he pushed the thought back down, 'There will be time for that later. Right now I have to find Belgarath.'

When he finally reached the library, he was out of breath. Because of the stale air, he was exhausted sooner than he should have been. He opened the door to find the library in utter chaos. There were books lying everywhere. Pages were torn out and strewn across the room. Several parchment rolls where on the floor halfway disintegrated, and others lay shredded to peices elsewhere.Then Belgarion saw him. He was lying face down with several books ontop of him moaning. "Grandfather!" Belgarion shouted, somewhat louder than he'd intended. Suddenly, Belgarion realized that he could talk again. He scrambled over and helped the old sorcerer up and into a seat. "What happened, Grandfather? Is it what you were afraid of?" He asked, somewhat willing that this was all some bad dream he would soon awaken from.

"Belgarion," Belgarath's voice was almost a whisper, "don't worry about me. There is something you must read before it is too late." Belgarath looked around for the book he had been reading before everything had stopped. "I was right," he said almost ruefully, "but what I was looking for wasn't in the Darine. It was in the Ashabine Oracles. Do you recall the message Torak left you before."

Belgarion nodded, not willing to speak. So it was one of those.

"Well, there's another one - although this isn't from Torak."

"Zandramas then?" Belgarion feared the worse. Was Zandramas somehow still here? Or her spirit at least. He'd seen her change; become the missing constellations.

"No, this is worse; I beleive it's from the dark Neccesity himself. The essense of the Child of Dark. I can't read it myself, but for some reason, I seem to know it's what we're looking for. _And_, I know it's for you. Here read this," Belgarath slid over a book with a black, almost oily cover. Inside was a grutesque, spidery script. Belgarion could actually feel the malice eminating out of it. It was if all the evil in the universe where concentrated in that one book, and it was _all_ directed at him.

"I'm afraid to, Grandfather," Belgarion responded warily, "I'd rather not."

"To be honest with you, I am too. You still need to read it," Belgarath persisted.

"Why do you want me to read this so bad? Why's it so important to you, old man?" Garion couldn't believe that this decrepit man would have the audacity to force him, Belgarion of Riva, the Godslayer, to read such an abominable writing.

"You spoiled brat!" the antique man spat."If you don't read this I'll . . . I'll . . ." Immediatly he stopped. "Belgarion," he said quietly, "listen to the sound of the Orb."

Belgarion shook his head, it as if there was wool in it. When it cleared he said, "It's the book isn't it?"

"Yes," Belgarath agreed, "It's a fairly old trick the Grolims like. It's not very useful, especially once you've broken the spell, but it's still powerful. Most likely, if the Orb wasn't here we would have ended up strangling each other."

"But we're okay now, right?"

"Yes, but if you start feel irational, think about the Orb. I'm not sure who put this curse here, since it is obvious that the Dark Neccesity wanted you to read it. Most likely Torak or Zandramas. The very idea that they weren't invincible was abominable to them. More likely than not, they added this on their own. _Against_ the orders of their master."

"Well, what does it say? You know I can't read Old Angarak."

"Actually it's not in Old Angarak. In fact, it's not in any language that I've ever seen or heard of. It could be a secret language within the Grolim Hierarchy, but I doubt it. Either way, somehow, I know you can still read it. After all, it's writen too you. Whatever it is that's tampering with my comprehension wants you to read it."

Belgarion reached for the accursed text. Again the feeling of malevolence washed over him. He forced the feeling away and gazed at the words before him. At first all he saw was the now familiar spidery script that anounced Old Angarak. Then, he began to notice another, more blocky writing. Just as Belgarath had said, this was nothing he'd ever seen before. Yet, for some idea, he felt like he could understand it. And then it hit him. It wasn't an ancient text at all. It was if someone was talking to him now. Here. _"Hail, Belgarion," _the voice sounded. It was comeing _from_ the text.

"Who are you?" Belgarion asked, almost not wanting an answer.

_"You know me." _the dry voice answered, _"you've always known me."_

"Your the Dark Neccesity aren't you?" Belgarion accused.

The text had an almost humored sound to it, _"No, Belgarion, I'm the Voice of the Prophesy which you serve. I've hidden myself in this text, because the last place my counterpart would look would be here."_

"How do I know that you are who you say you are?" Belgarion countered.

_"Pick up the Darine Codex, or the Mrin. I'm there, too now. It's like a key. The Dark Neccesity is too proud to look in his own words to find me, so that's where I hid until I was needed again. Once someone finds me in here, I'm there too."_

Belgarion was still not convinced, "If the Dark Neccesity didn't know you were here, then why was there a curse on the text?"

_"That was to keep the Grolims from intercepting. I their own power against them. Remember when you realized the true nature of darkness, Belgarion? It's merely the absense of light. In truth, As long as there is light, there will always be darkness. It's but a shadow of truth, It's a lie. If I were indeed of darkness, could I so easily admit the truth?"_

Still not thoroughly assured, Belgarion needed a bit more proof, "The people here, why are they frozen? Was that your doing? And if so, why are we not frozen in here?"

_"Belgarion, you still have a task before you. It is not here though. There are many worlds out there; this is but one of them. My counterpart broke the rules, so I have a certain liberty myself. At the begining, when the Accident occured, it was agreed that we could not meet face to face lest we destroy the universe. So it was decided that on this world the final decision would be made. When the light of the explosion reached this world, then a CHOICE would be made by one agreed upon by us both. That CHOICE was to be final, and we were to abide by it. My counterpart, chose to forsake it. He fled a split second before the choice was made and went to another world. By not abiding by Cyradis' Choice, he has endangered all creation. It is my Neccesity, therefore, to follow him, and force him into annihilation. Since we still cannot meet face to face, I must use a vessle as before, and I don't have the time to teach another. He has broken the rules, so I must do the same. I need you Belgarion. I stopped time in everywhere but here. I needed Belgarath to find the text in which I hid, so I left this room 'awake.' Yet, only you can come with me. Zandrams is through, he must find another to posses. I cannot force you, you must choose, Belgarion. But choose wisely, and choose quickly, for we have not a moment to waste."_

Belgarion looked at his grandfather, then back at the text, "Will I ever return?"

The text took a somber tone, _"If we succeed, you will return to where you were before time stopped, knowing none the wiser. If you fail, there will be nowhere to return to."_

"This is who I am," Belgarion said at last, "I must go."

_"One last thing; when you arrive, look for the Spear of Glory to guide you on your way" _the voice of Neccesity said. _"Now come."_

Then suddenly, everything went black. But just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he herd a bell sound, and a triumphant voice say, _"Done!"_


	4. Chapter Three

_Thank you, Finwitch1, for your review. Please keep reading. _

_Everybody, tell your friends to R&R. Please review - that way I'll know you're reading. Plus, it'll help fuel my ego - like I need that, right?_

_Well, here's Chapter Three . . ._

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**Chapter Three**

Heath Edmunds propped up his feet. It was nice to get away, even if only for a moment. As often as he had read these books he still loved them. It wasn't really an escape - well, maybe it was - but, the characters just seemed to come to life. Work had been hard lately. What, with the Christmas crowd and all, it was amazeing that he was able even now to find a small respit. Still, he'd take what he had.

The phone rang. 'Man,' he thought, 'every time! Well, I guess I should answer it.' "Hello?"

"Hey, Heath," the voice on the other end said. "Can you pick up a shift, please? Someone just called in sick, and we're rather short handed."

"Yea, I'll be there in twenty minutes," Heath sighed as he put down his book. This was why he hated Christmas. It seemed that no matter how many shows were on about the 'True meaning of Christmas' no one he actually met seemed to put it into practice. 'I've _gotta_ get out of the retail industry. It's sapping the life outa me,' Heath whined to himself.

Twenty-five minutes later he pulled into the mall parking lot and threw on his uniform shirt as was getting out of the car. "You know, all I want for Christmas is a life!" Heath grumbled, and walked in.

It was aweful. Eight hours of mind numbing tedium would have been preferable to what he had to put up with. The level of sheer idiocy to which mankind had stooped was mind-boggling. Didn't people know that there was more out there than a pretty pair of jeans and a matching tee? To see customers wrangleing with each other over the simplest of items made Heath want to howl in fustration. 'Everything always seems to go wrong for me, no matter what I do,' he complained to himself as he gathered and folded the clothes stewn about the store. 'It's like something, or someone, doesn't want me to succeed. Here I am in a dead end job with no end in sight. But, this is the only thing I know. What else can I do?"

"Just wait, your time will come. I've got plenty for you to do, so enjoy the peace while you have it," said a dry voice in the back of his mind.

"Peace! Sure!" Heath mocked. "Man,why do you keep popping up like that? Stop being so cryptic!" Of course, the voice never answered back. It would do this every so often: pop up and make some impossible declaration, then go silent. Truth be told, Heath was growing somewhat tired of his little friend upstairs.

"Who are you to say what is possible or not?" the voice retorted.

"Oh, now you respond, huh? Why don't you just say what you mean. Is it so hard?" Heath taunted, but the voice was either gone or simply refused to comment again. Either way was fine with Heath. 'Finally, a little _peace_ to my own thoughts," he grumbled then put it out of his mind.

Later, back in his apartment, with his shoes off, his feet propped up again, and a book in his hand, he took a deep breath, "At last, a chance to myself. Hopefully I'm not disturbed this time." Heath took a moment to contemplate. He knew that he was destined for great things. He could feel it in the fiber of his being. And it wasn't just a feeling either. He also had somewhat of an intuitive nature. He could sense things. He instinctively knew things that he had no way of knowing. Like, the other day, he knew that some guy named Jack Kastle would buy a blue sweater from him. It wasn't one of those things where he woke up thinking about it. It just came to him. He was standing behind the cash register and there was a man in line. It all of a sudden popped into his head that this man would buy a blue sweater, and that his name was Jack Kastle. Sure enough, when the man got to the register, he suddenly remembered that he'd forgotten something. When he returned with a blue sweater and handed Heath his card to run, the card read "Jacob Kastle." Most people would flip, but Heath simply shrugged it off. It happened all the time.

That wasn't it though. Heath knew for a fact that there was a type of perception out there that defied common logic. He knew when things were true, (that was another part of his 'talant') and he knew that the "so-called-sixth-sense" everybody scorned was indeed a reality. Yea, sure, there were those "soothsayers" and what-nots who gave it a bad name; but it _did_ exist. And, try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that Fate had something rather over-the-top in store for him. That voice he'd heard earlier that day kinda confirmed it.

All of these things were reasons why he so enjoyed reading about Belgarion of Riva. To him they weren't just stories. They were confirmations. In some way he knew, again, he didn't know how; but he _just knew_ that there was something _real_ about them. And so, when later that evening, as he was finishing up the last paragraph of _Belgarath the Sorcerer_ and saw a strangely clad young man walk through his door unannounced, Heath calmly looked up from his book and with aplomb said, "Good evening, Belgarion, welcome to my home."


End file.
